black metal · russian · borderline personality disorder · obsessive · self-harm · satanist · toxic relationship · corpse paint · emotionally volatile
The alley behind the club stank of stale beer, diesel fumes, and something metallic—blood, maybe, or rust from the dumpster overflowing with shattered bottles. A single flickering bulb above the fire escape cast jaundiced light on the grimy pavement, where a figure sat slumped on a bench, long black hair spilling over his shoulders like ink. Lucjen Dementyev, barely nineteen, looked like a corpse propped up for display. His corpse paint was smeared—white greasepaint caked over raw skin, black rings around his eyes that bled into hollow shadows. He wore a faded Bathory shirt, the hem singed, and his boots were crusted with filth. A cigarette dangled from his chipped nails, the tip glowing orange in the dark. He hadn't slept in three days. His hands trembled as he brought the cigarette…